When I Married You

MEETING HIM

"I was told I'm getting married to you," I said in a small voice and realized immediately that the statement I had just made was the stupidest ever in the world. It could even win an award.

But he said nothing, sitting there staring at me like I was crazy

I can still remember the argument I had with my dad and stepmother last night.

I thought I was only going to marry him in 2 days, but I was told I was supposed to meet my prospective husband soon to get to know him better.

I didn't want to do this but I felt that if I didn't, there was no hope for me.

I agreed at the last minute, I just couldn't close all around.

Henry was already planning the wedding with Felicia, so the only thing I could think of was to accept his proposal.

So here I am sitting before the richest and youngest billionaire in all of London.

His face was expressionless, and his icy blue eyes were small and looked deep into his sockets.

Eyes that held so much that you would lose your soul while staring at them.

His sharp and well-chiseled jaw drove into a thin and sensual lip that looked so sexy that you could beg them to kiss you.

His eyes were sharp and calculating, and it seemed like he could even read my mind.

I was already beginning to fidget, and my voice was shaking as I spoke to him.

We were the most expensive restaurant in the whole of London, this restaurant whose ads I had watched on TV and wished every day that Henry would bring me to.

It was the same restaurant I was in and sitting before my soon-to-be husband.

"My Father is Robert Peterson and I-"

"I know." He said in a low sharp voice, cutting me off immediately. His voice held that sharpness that only a ninja sword had, with a touch of melody attached to it.

That kind of voice can even make you sit transfixed staring at him.

"I know all about that. I didn't ask you to come here to bore me with all those details."

He sat so still in his chair, his jet-black hair fell across his eyes and he looked strikingly handsome.

"Oh." I managed to see and looked down at my hands.

For close to 30 minutes, silence dwelled between us, silence so sharp that it could even tear through a wall. And when I looked up from my hands, he was staring directly at me.

"So ?" I coughed nervously. "We are getting married in two days."

"I know." He said again and I almost cringed, wishing I had vanished.

Bad line, I thought to myself.

I needed to think of something else to keep the conversation going.

He was going to be my husband for the rest of my life and we just can't be looking at each other at home throughout the whole day.

"I am in my final year at Stanford."

"I know," he said again and I wondered if he was angry that I was sitting before him, if he didn't know anything to say, or if he was just disgusted by my mere presence.

I gave myself a mental warning not to say anything until I left this place.

"Why are you dressed, like you just escaped from a psychiatric home?" The first ever sentence he had said to me came out of his mouth and I felt myself sinking back into my chair and wished the ground would open so I could be swallowed up.

"I was expecting something better, someone beautiful, not all this." He said looking at me through his long lashes.

I thought it was over when he continued.

"What's with the purple skirt and orange sweater and green bag? "He asked in a gruff voice." Did someone break your heart ?"

This was the meanest remark I have ever had in my life and I never wished he would say this to me.

Yeah, I know that I suck at fashion, but this was beyond me. Even the devil wouldn't say these mean things to me.

"And to make the whole situation worse, you are even a redhead." A cruel dancer danced on his lips and he shook his head.

"Your father thinks I am joking with him." He said, and I saw a glint of wickedness and fury dancing in his eyes.

"Anyways that is not the reason why I am here, I am a very busy person." He began. " And I had already planned this meeting to be just 30 minutes but ..." He glanced at his wristwatch." We have used 23 minutes and we have just seven left."

I swallowed and stared at him like a surprised flamingo.

"I am quite sure your father already told you everything you need to know, because I don't have the time in the whole wide world to explain to a little girl the reason why I need to marry her ."

Did he just call me that?

I pretended not to hear and sat like a dog listening to him but the word 'little girl' made my eyes widen and I was kind of angry.

"You are to be my wife tomorrow and for the sake of your sanity, I will invite all media personalities and make it look like we are in love."

I nodded numbly and immediately stopped like my neck was stuck

"Tomorrow ?"I asked stupidly, and he gave me a very dirty and long look.

"Do you have amnesia?" He asked.

I shook my head, remembering that it was just yesterday Dad had told me about everything.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and a knot tightened in my stomach.

"After we get married I would want you to get rid of all these nasty clothes you are putting on, they are so unforgiving and the bright colors are making me go blind."

Yeah, right

Here comes another insult.

I said nothing, trying my best not to get angry.

"You are getting married to me because your father owes me a huge debt, and you are paying it off. I hope you understand this?"

I nodded

He rewarded me with another of his mean looks.

"Cat got your tongue ?"

"Yes," I said in a very low voice.

"I guess we are cleared, you will be taken care of by the beauticians and the rest." He said and the door to the private lounge of the restaurant opened, and a man drove in a wheelchair and I felt like passing out.

My eyes darted, asking a thousand and one questions.

"I don't want you to arrive late for the wedding." He instructed as he heaved himself up, refusing help from the man, and pushed himself into the wheelchair.

A painful expression crossed his face quickly as confusion registered on my face.

"Are you in a wheelchair?" I found myself asking before I could stop the words.

He looked at me.

"Do you have a problem with that?"